The Sleepy Town of St Hopes
by A Northern Irish man
Summary: The quiet town of St Hopes, Illinois. Home of a peaceful community and a simple way of life, all protected by the dedicated yet troubled Sheriff Blane Whittaker. When tragedy strikes the town and a Federal Agent comes to town to assist in an investigation, Blane must step up solve the crime as well as face some hard truths about his own life
1. Chapter 1

**So this started out as just an idea and somewhat of a writing exercise. I wanted to see if I could strip away all previous history and take only the characters to develop a story. If you are looking for M. adventures, this won't be the story for you. If you are looking for intrigue and character development in all the characters you love from the series, this might fulfill some of those, enjoy**

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The night sky was dark with a hollowed sense of nothingness as the rain splashed down on the roof of the truck and on its windscreen. Blane slowed and pulled up at the bus shelter. Stood under it was Melissa, huddled under it to keep out of the near torrential downpour and complete shrouded in darkness. Blane lent over and opened the passenger down. Melissa scampered through the rain and climbed in. As she shut the door Blane flicked on the inside light above their heads, now with this small beacon of light he would see the state she was in. Wrapped in a large, heavy coat, she was drenched from head to toe, the rain had covered her. The rain had hit her so badly he found it hard to see where the rain water stopped and the tears began. Upon her soaked face sat a swollen and reddened lip along with developing bruise that engulfed her light eye. They stared at each other with blank expression, unsure of what to say, and in a split moment Melissa broke down, crying again with more tears running down her face than the droplets on the windscreen. She continued to sob but turned away from Blane and starred out into the abyss.

"I'm so sorry Sheriff." She said with difficulty, in her state she was finding it hard to say anything.

"It's ok," Blane rested his hand on her shoulder "It's not your fault. It never was." She turned back to him. "You did the right thing calling."

"Thank you," she smiled and tried to wipe away the tears with no avail, "for coming on such short notice and in the middle of the night."

"I always told you, you can call me day or night." There was a brief silence, "When did it start back up?"

"A few weeks ago," She wiped her nose on the coat sleeve, "It never really stopped if I'm honest. He got better for a while but only slightly better though."

"Have you got somewhere you can stay? Somewhere that's not here?" Blane inquired softly. She nodded

"My sister, Judy, she lives over in Lexington."

"Well then that's where we're going."

"That's hours away." She stated in shock, "I can't expect you to drive me all the way there."

"Melissa, it's my job to keep the people safe, I just left you to make your own way there I wouldn't be doing my duty. Have you got a phone you can call her on?" Blane explained. She shook her in sombrely.

"I left pretty much everything at the house."

"That's fine." Blane lent over again, opened up his glove compartment and fished out his phone. "Call her now and explain to her you'll be there within the next few hours." He placed it in her hand and with shaky hands she dialled her sister and lifted to her ear. Blane sat quietly and observed her, listening and only hearing Melissa's side of the conversation.

"Hi Judy, it's me….no I know it's late….No….It's Roly, I just couldn't take it anymore….I've left everything behind….I'm still in the town….that's actually why I'm calling, could I stay with you for a while?...No you don't need to drive up, I'm actually coming down to you," Melissa paused for a moment and glanced over at me "A friend is driving me down." I smiled, "We'll be there in the next few hours. We'll meet you in the old parking lot….Ok, bye….Love you too." She hung up and placed the phone on the dashboard.

"Right we'll get going." Blane began. "But you need to get some sleep."

Blane helped Melissa get to sleep, folding up his own jacket and propping it up against the truck door for her to use as a pillow. She was soon fast asleep; the experience had clearly left her exhausted, and Blane began to backtrack to avoid her home encase they got spotted. They drove continuously for hours down the highway; the road kept coming at them, almost stretching beyond the human imagination. The street lights that gave the highway an amber tinge wiped across the truck in streaks as they drove under them. They eventually made it to Lexington but Melissa was still asleep and Blane couldn't bring himself to wake her, she looked at peace, something she had seemed far from as of late. Blane park up in the main street and took a look around, she had stated they'd meet at the old parking lot; Blane rode around town looking for clues where it could be. After a few minutes he found it, it was a wide gravel plain that was deserted except for one car parked in middle with a figure sat upon its bonnet, presumably Judy. Blane up and turned his highlights on. He got out and made his way to Judy who got off the hood and met Blane halfway.

"Judy Allbright." She said extending her hand, Blane shook it.

"Blane Whittaker, St Hopes' Sheriff." He responded.

"Aren't you a little young to be a Sheriff?"

"That's what I kept telling them." Blane chuckled, "Melissa's still asleep in the car." He gestured to the passenger side.

"Thank you for bringing her all the way down."

"Don't worry about it." Blane smiled, "I'll tell her we're here." Blane made his way back into the driver's side and lightly tapped Melissa on the shoulder. "Melissa," he whispered, "we're here." Her eyes faded open, "Judy is here to take you somewhere safe." Melissa didn't speak but simply gave a confirming nod. Blane helped her out of the truck and guided her over to her sister. "She left most of her things at the house, I'll see what I can get and give you a call in a couple of days." Blane explained to Judy as he handed her sister over.

"Thank you again." Judy said gratefully as she guided Melissa into the passenger seat of her car.

"Sheriff," Melissa called out, "When you get back please don't go after Roly. He just gets mad sometimes and can't control himself. It's not his fault. I just want the violence to end." Blane took a deep breath and agreed to her request. He agreed to it verbally but he certainly didn't agree with it morally or ethically but a promise was a promise. Blane stood and waved goodbye as they drove off into the distance. Blane continued to stand in the surrounding night and sighed, hoping this would be the end of Melissa Allright's troubles. Blane's brief moment of contemplation for Melissa's safety soon morphed into contemplation about his own life which was never good for Blane, getting lost in his own mind brought back the sounds, the bangs echoed in his ears. Blane clenched his fists and hurried back into the truck. As we drove home he cracked the radio all the way up to drown out everything.

The next morning Blane awake with a snort and a jolt as he found himself slouched in his living room armchair. As he sat up straight in the chair he noticed the bottle sat between his legs. He picked it up and rattled it to see if there was anything left in it, a question he already knew the answer to but decided to check just to be sure. He placed the empty bottle on the coffee table as he lifted himself from the chair leading to a roaring yawn and an expansive stretch to work out the kinks in his back from sleeping. Blane wondered to the curtains and whipped them open to have the white hot sun beam in and illuminate the room; Blane stared directly into the rays, torturing himself to wake him up. Once his eyes adjusted Blane took a shower to freshen up for the day ahead. Getting out he wiped the gathering steam from the mirror and glared at gruff, ragged excuse for a 26 year old. His physique was still toned; he had always maintained his fitness routine from the old days but with the cuts, scars and burns gathered over time it was a tough sight. He inspected his face; he ran his hand across his face, the prickly stubble brushed against his palm. He decided not to shave out of a cocktail of laziness and a lack of caring in the first place. He got dressed, throwing on some jeans and a red/black flannel shirt; finally putting on his gun belt and heading to the safe where he retrieved his Smith & Wesson .29 which he holstered, and his badge which he pinned to his shirt. Just before leaving he swung on his brown leather jacket and braced himself for the day ahead. Blane stepped out and was instantly met by the sunlight, despite the torturing and the shower Blane's head was still pounding. His headache rumbled as he rubbed his eyes and rummaged through his jacket to find his sunglasses which once on eased his throbbing pain.

The streets were quiet as Blane walked to the station trying to clear his head. The town was peaceful as the residents slept in a sense of security, as sense they felt because Blane was there, something Blane just couldn't comprehend. He kept walking through the morning air; the smell of a new day filled his nostrils. He finally made it the sheriff's office and strolled in, Davina the receptionist who manned the front desk wasn't in yet and probably wouldn't be in any time soon. Davina had a habit of spending too much time on how she looked, a habit to that was made extra peculiar by the fact that this was just an average, run of the mill country town, not Chicago or New York but in the end it didn't really matter, nothing major went on and the rest of the team would just answer the calls instead. As Blane ventured into the office he found his Deputy sat by his desk leaning back in his chair, his feet stretched out and propped on his table which his hat drooped down over his face.

"Morning Dan," Blane tapped on the desk, Dan jolted and sprang forward lifting his hat, "Any calls yet?"

"Nope," Dan lightly chuckled. Blane continued into his office where he hung up his jacket and put away his sunglasses. As he began rolling up his sleeves he heard Dan calling for him, as he made his way into the main office he saw Dan still sat in his chair hold up a large brown paper bag. "Almost forgot, one extra greasy cheese burger, extra bacon and one can of ice cold lemon soda."

"What?"

"As the good deputy that I am I got you your favourite food, knowing what state you'd be in this morning because we're just so close." Dan explained while making his way over with the bag, "Or maybe it's because you send me a message at 2am asking me to get you said snack." He and Blane began to laugh. Blane instantly began to gorge himself on the burger as he gazed out the window as the shops began to open one by one. "So what shall we do today Sheriff?"

"Same thing we do every day, serve and protect."

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 **Hope you enjoyed. Obviously I'll be introducing the other characters from across the series as I go along. If you have any thoughts on this experiment and have any suggestions on what could happen next please feel free to review**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the wait, hope you enjoy**

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Blane and Dan stood in the main office huddled around the center table going over the plans for tomorrow's opening ceremony for the St Hopes Green Finger Festival being held in the town square. The Festival had been a long standing tradition in the community, for many residents it was their official start of spring and the beginning of harvest season, the main industry of the entire county. There would be a band, dozens of stalls, a bouncy castle for the kids and the St Hopes Barbeque cookout with enough ribs and steaks for every person in the community to gorge themselves on ten times over. The event almost never went sour, except for the occasional person having a few too many from Frank's beer and cider tent. The main concern was navigation and movement of attendee, with over half the town attending the ceremony and the number of attraction they didn't want overcrowding in any one area as that could cause bottle neck and someone would almost definitely get hurt, they also needed to ensure barriers was in place so cars could get around and no one would accidently step out and get knocked down. Blane and Dan had spent the past four hours going through the festival blueprints, separating the beer tent from the children's play area and having them on the opposite ends of the parks and dividing the most popular stalls to decrease over crowding, after repeatedly going over each detail they finally had the best possible layout which they emailed to the organisers over at town hall. Just as Blane sent it off he and Dan took a deep sigh of relief, people were going to be setting up the festival attractions in only a few hours and everything had to be perfect, this festival was the heart and soul for some people, if anyone were to get hurt tomorrow Blane and Dan would be held accountable, they joked that an angry mob with torches and pitchforks would run them out of town. As they sat down and leaned back in their chairs they heard the clicking of high heels and there stood Davina.

"Hey guys." Davina said, she was standing there in clearly freshly straightened hair with brand new highlights. "Sorry I'm late…My dog had got out of the house and I had to chase after him."

"Ha," Dan shouted out at Blane, "something happened to her dog, I called it." They looked back at her and she was just staring blankly at them, seemingly clueless that they had made a bet on her excuse, Davina was ditsy like that.

"Don't worry, it is fine," Blane assured her, "Not much has happened, just go and check if we have any messages." Davina then disappeared off behind the main desk.

With the heavy work out of the way Blane and Dan carried on with their usual daily routines, checking police wavebands encase anyone needed help with anything, every once in a while they'd get called in to assist with search parties and manhunts with other state police, on the odd occasion even taking part in raids, mainly because the raids were for case by other police departments and the buildings they were raiding were just within Blane's jurisdiction and including them meant to things, they'd have a quickly response team at hand and there wouldn't be any bureaucratic catastrophes. Half an hour later Blane was stood making himself a cup of coffee when suddenly a panicked Luke Withers burst through the door exhausted and gasping for air.

"Sheriff…It's….It…You better get to main street." Luke blurted out before having to stop all together to get his breath back. Blane groaned as he set down his cup and followed a panting Luke to Main Street. As Blane made his way onto Main Street it became blatantly aware very quickly what all the commotion was about. In the middle of the road there was a clearly intoxicated Roland, stumbling in every direction trying to stay upright, his hand gripped tightly around a large beer bottle. After every large gulp of his drink he called for Melissa with no response. Blane silently started gesturing to other people on the street to back away as he slowly approached Roland who was too busy devouring his drink to notice. Blane kept his distance and stayed on the pavement.

"Hey Roland, what you up to?" Blane softly asked. Roland's head snapped straight in Blane's direction

"You," Roland shouted as his face twisted into an expression of pure rage. "What did you do with Melissa?"

"I don't know what you mean Roland." Blane replied, "Why don't you place the bottle down and we can talk about this."

"Liar," Roland screamed, dropping his bottle and stumbling towards Blane who began back up to maintain distance, "I know she called you. She did last time and I know you just love nothing more than splitting us up."

"Roland, I know you're upset but I need you calm down buddy." Blane wanted to defuse this situation peacefully; Roland was tall, heavily built and had been known to brawl. From past experience Blane knew he could take him but it was Melissa's request that drove him to aim for a non-violent end. In an instant Roland's fist was clenched and cocked back ready to attack as he began to charge furiously at Blane. Blane stood still until Roland got close and step to the side out of Roland's warpath. Roland was too drunk to stop and flew straight into a lamppost. His fist impacted the solid post and result in two sound, the metallic wobble of the post and the distinct sound of bone breaking. Roland began to curse profusely while gripping his hand and soon turned his attention back to Blane. With his other hand Roland swung at him but he was too far for it to be close to Blane and had swung with too much momentum than he could handle which caused him to twirl around and drop face first onto the ground. Blane sighed and looked around at all the curious bystanders who were watching from a distance. "It's ok everyone. I'll take it from here." He called out. He grabbed Roland and brought him to his feet, Roland was all but unconscious but still able to stand with a bit of support. Blane stood behind Roland, keeping his unbroken limb in an arm lock, and marched him down the street. "Alright Roland, I'm taking you to the doc's office."

Blane guided the still intoxicated Roland through the front door of the doctor's office, entering into the empty reception. Blane looked around for somebody; there was no one on the front desk.

"Doc?" Blane called out, no response, "Doctor Tupper?" Still silence, "Tom!" Blane finally shouted. Tom's head finally popped out through the service hatch behind the front desk, his face painted with curiosity and his head engulfed in large bulky headphone. As soon as he spotted the towering Roland and Blane he disappeared for a moment and quickly scampered into the reception to greet them.

"Hey guys, I didn't hear you." Tom said pulling off his headphones. Tom dressed in his usual prim attire, shined shoes and baby blue shirt with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. "I was going over some case notes."

"So what rank is your character on Blade Quest now?" Blane smirked, Tom looked away in embarrassment. "Mr Donaldson here got drunk and had a bit of a bad fall. I think he might have broken his hand."

"Of course, follow me," Tom ushered them into the examination and Blane plopped Roland onto the bed.

"Alright Roland, I'm going to let Tom here have a look at your hand. If you even think about causing any more trouble the hand will be the least of your worries." Blane forcefully told Roland who drunkenly nodded. Tom went about inspecting the now swelling hand and began to putting a splint on it while Blane lent against the wall keeping watch of Roland. "Place seems pretty deserted Tom," Blane noted, "Where is everyone?"

"There tends to a bit of a lull at this time of year." Tom explained, "Once harvest season starts there'll be an increase. With the amount of farms in this county there's bound to be a few industrial accidents." He chuckled, "Spring, the season where people forget you're meant to keep a safe distance from heavy machinery. I do mainly home visits this season." Tom continued to dress Roland's wound, after twenty minutes he was done, "Yep he's definitely broken something. I would say his third metacarpal has been shattered and his proximal phalange has a crack in it. I can't be too sure until there's been an x-ray. You'll need to take him to St. Hearts General for that. I've dressed the hand and put on a splint to keep it steady for the meantime, it'll keep for the rest of the day and you can take him round in a few days."

And with that Blane's phone began to buzz, it was Davina.

"Hi Sheriff. If you're done with Mr. Donaldson a report came in about an abandoned car over at Bethany Way." Davina told Blane over the phone.

"Thanks Davina, patch me through to Dan will you." Blane waited patiently for Dan to pick up. "Hi Dan, I need you to come round to Tom's office and pick up Roland, I'll fill out the paperwork later. Now I've got to check out this report." He finished the call and waited for Dan to show up; as Dan entered they nodded at one another as Dan pulled out the handcuffs and put them around Roland. "Roland Donaldson you are arrested for drunken disorderly and the attempted assault of an officer." Blane didn't want to arrest him, knowing his promise, but a promise could only go so far when it came to the law.

Blane accompanied Roland and Dan to the car and saw them off as they headed to the station. Blane grabbed his red pickup truck from his and headed round to Bethany Way. Bethany Way was on the outskirts of town, a country road that was sandwiched between the woods and Duffy's Peak. As Blane approached the scene he spotted the car. The car had taken a nosedive off the road straight into a ditch, as was evident with the gapping whole in the metal crash barrier. Blane slowed as he reached the site. There were two people already there, Micky Anders the scrapyard owner waiting with his tow truck for Blane and the other was the man who called in the report. Blane got out of the truck and greeted the two men.

"Hello," the other man said as he shook Blane's hand, "Ben, Ben North. I found the car." Ben's voice was shaky.

"Ok Mr North, what time did you find the car?" Blane asked pulling out a pen and pad.

"Well I found the car about an hour ago. It was just lying in that ditch."

"And what were you doing up here in the middle of nowhere?" Blane asked while scribbling down notes.

"I'm a land surveyor." Blane stared blankly at him, "I was sent up here to take a couple photos of the area, take record of forestry mass in the region."

"Why would you need to do that?"

"Property wealth and resources I guess." Ben shrugged, "I don't really get told my client's reasons for the surveying."

"And who is your client?"

"I'm really sorry Sheriff, that's confidential." Ben replied apologetically, Blane narrowed his eyes, "the confidentially clauses was just part of the contract."

"Don't worry about it," Blane smiled to tense Ben's tension, "Just thought I'd ask. Alright Mr. North that's everything for the meantime. If I have any more questions I'll give you a call, do you have a card?"

"Yes I do," Ben fished through his wallet and pulled out a business card. 'North Land Solutions. Ben North: Land Surveyor. 836-235-7709.' and with that they shook hands and Ben left in his car.

Blane stood on the edge of the road by the broken barrier and peered down at the totalled wreck. The drop was steep and substantial and the car now buried deep in thick thorny shrubbery. The car was so awkwardly placed Micky had spent ages hooking it and dragging it up. They finally dragged it for inspection. The car was a beige 1988 Lincoln Town Car, its body completely smashed, particularly its bonnet, twigs were lodged in the car's radiator and both its doors were hanging open. Blane went to check for any signs of life inside but what he found concerned him even more. The car was empty but the driver's seat had been shot up and was covered in dark dried blood.

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 **Hope you enjoyed? The first couple of chapters are going to be more introduction of characters, apart from the obvious ones are there any characters you would like to make an appearance? Don't forget to review. I can't learn if you don't tell me I suck**


	3. Chapter 3

**Enjoy**

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Blane stared at the seat, the darkened dried blood had stained and soaked into the brown leather of the seat, making the blood seem even darker. The sight wasn't good for Blane; it was bringing up a number of painful memories like throwing up a meal that was already rancid when it went down the first time. Blane gazed into the red void and had gotten completely lost in it; it felt like the blood was staring back at him. Suddenly a hand slapped upon his back and dragged it back to reality. Blane jumped internally but kept his external composure, he spun around to find Micky.

"Everything alright there Sheriff?" Micky inquired, he gazed over Blane's shoulder and saw the seat, saw the blood, his eyes widened and jaw stuck half open, he choked on his words for a moment before finally continuing, "Sheriff what's going on? I thought this was just a wrecked car?" Blane looked back at the car, a plan forming in his head, he turned back to Micky.

"Micky I want you to take this car straight to the yard and put it in storage." Blane said as he lent in with a hushed clandestine tone, "Don't touch a single part of the car, not you, not anybody." Blane looked around for any signs of life, "and don't breath a word of this to anybody." Blane changed his tone to that of a lawman, "If you do I will drag you in myself for leaking confidential information and endangering a police investigation."

"Investigation?" Micky saw how serious Blane was being and clamped up, "Yes Sheriff, right away." Micky hooked up the car and hurried off back to the scrapyard.

Before Micky sped away Blane took note of the license plate. He watched Micky disappear into the distance until he was alone, complete solitude. Blane sighed heavily, this was not a good day, far from good, the realm of good situations was a mere speck from where he was standing, much like how this troublingly mysterious car wreck looked as Micky towed it away. Blane hopped back into the truck and headed back to town. Questions raced through his head, what's going on? Whose car was it? Was this murder? If it was who would murder someone on the outskirts of St. Hopes? There hadn't been a murder in St. Hopes in over two years. Sure there had been other crimes, that was just human nature but nothing like this, if this was murder someone had gone to some effort covering it up, there wasn't even a body in or around the car. Blane drove straight to the station. Upon entering he could hear the bellowing sound of snoring, like a chainsaw being started up, coming from the cells. It was Roland, lying face down on his bed, his left leg dangling of the side; he was deep in a post-bender coma. Back to work, Blane searched the station for Dan, finding him sat listening in on the police scanners, hoping for something.

"Hey boss," Dan began spinning around in his chair to greet Blane but he froze as he saw Blane's expression. "What happened? Was it the abandoned car?" Blane didn't respond, he looked around for Davina and then carried on into his office, gesturing Dan to follow.

"Shut the door behind you." Blane said getting behind his desk, standing over it and waiting for the door to close and the handle click. "When we fished out the car it was empty."

"And?"

"The driver's seat was covered in blood." There was a brief silence as Dan absorbed it all.

"Are you sure it was blood?" Dan finally blurted out.

"No Dan, I'm pretty sure someone just emptied a whole bottle of Code Red inside the car." Blane snapped.

"What are going to do? Opening ceremony is tomorrow."

"I've got Micky putting the car in the lockup; I'm going to pick up the keys. We sit on this until after tomorrow." Blane finally sat down, "Anyway, have you written up the report on Roland?"

"Yep, all written up, Roland's gonna sleep off the booze and I'll be taking him to get x-rays day after next. Apart from that, everything is pretty quiet."

"Great. I'm going to head over to Micky's. Not a word about the blood to anyone, especially not Davina, we don't want to start a panic." Before Blane left he scribbled down the licence plate and handed it to Dan, "While I'm away I want you to run these numbers with the DMV, see if we can find out who the car is registered."

"Sure thing." Dan said trying to hold back his eagerness; Dan didn't want to admit it but he was excited, this was the police work he thought he'd be doing when he became the deputy, the kind he saw on TV.

Blane rushed out to Micky's to check the security of the lockup where the car was being stored. It was just a garage, one door and one key, the most security Blane could get right now. Blane grabbed the key from Micky and headed home, we was done with this for the day.

The big day had arrived, The Green Finger Festival brought with it St. Hopes' spring and cheerier time of year. Blane slept restlessly the entire night, the sense that something might go wrong filled every inch of his being. Blane was awake before the sun and was on his feet to greet it as it peaked over the mountains in the distance. Today was one of those days Blane had to make an effort, one of the few; he had to clean himself up. First was the face, once he finished his shower Blane went about shaving, towel wrapped around his waist, still dripping wet. Blane ran his hand along his prickly face as he applied the foam. He ran the blade along his face, slowly watching its movements in the mirror that was half steamed up making it near impossible to actually see, just a foggy blur of a man he use to know. He felt a prick and could feel the blood running down his neck and dropping down into the sink full of water. As it impacted the crimson blood expanded in the water, like a red mist straight from Edgar Allen Poe. Once his close shave was done Blane moved onto the part of not looking like a train wreck, wardrobe. Blane had one smart outfit, the one he used for occasions such as this. Dark grey tweed blazer with a pine green shirt underneath topped off with his jeans and a pair of half shined brown boots. As Blane began to dress he had to tuck in his shirt, a look he almost never sported, for Blane it felt strangely constraining but again, this was one of those days. As he put on his belt with his holster and gun Blane attached his belt buckle, thick, clunky and silver with a soaring eagle on it. Blane didn't like it that much but it was a present so he felt obligate, plus people loved a patriot. As he whipped on his blazer he heard a dropping sound and a clang from the wardrobe. As he reached down to the floor of the wardrobe he found it was his dog tags that had been buried deep, deeper than the outfit he barely wore. Blane looked at it was a bizarre feeling of fondness as he ran his fingers over his engraved name before tossing them back in. Blane took one last look at him in the mirror and vaguely smiled, seeing a half self-respecting human being looking back at him. As he left Blane took one quick indulgent swig from his hip flask and he was on his way.

Soon Blane was stood in the main square outside the town hall, sipping coffee from a polisterin cup and overlooking the finishing touches to the opening, the stalls and the tents being propped up, the final touches to the stage being added. Everything was ready and the crowds began to flock to it around for the opening speech on the stage, a stage Blane would be required stand on. Being Sheriff meant Blane was a pillar of the community and so he'd have to stand on that stage, smiling as Mayor Millar would give his speech about how great St. Hopes was, how it embodied the American Dream.

"Morning Sheriff." A voice said as a hand rested on Blane's shoulder. It was the Mayor

"Good Morning sir," Blane responded, "Ready?"

"Of course and please, call me Darren. You're one of the few who can." He chuckled.

"Well…Darren," Blane began taking a sip and checking his watch. "The opening ceremony is in about half an hour so we get set."

The next thirty minutes flew in and Blane quickly found himself stood at the back of the stage next to McNab, the Mayor's right hand man and main advisor, and an empty chair for Kenneth Flatley, the other advisor in the Mayor's office, while Millar stood at the podium ahead of them grinning out to the huge crowd of almost everyone in town. The Mayor gave them his heart filled spiel but Blane wasn't playing attention to it. His mind was elsewhere, he couldn't shake the abandoned car with the bloodied seat but Blane swept it aside to focus on the matters at hand. He casually scanned the crowd; everyone shared an enthusiastic expression as they all faced the Mayor idealistically, the shining sun gleaming down on them. No one was going to cause a ruckus today but Blane was naturally suspicious, a trait that was hammered into him. Blane was too deep into his surveying to realise the speech was over and was met with a loud roar of applause that made him jump. The crowds shuffled in unison around the stage to the rest of the attractions, the children squealed and charged for the children's play area while the parents began to browse the stalls or barbeque, some of the adults headed straight for Frank's beer tent, the prospect of drinking red wine at 9 in the morning was quite appealing to some housewives. Blane stood in the middle of the park pleasantly basking in the warm sun. Blane began to rummage through his inside blazer pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes. He took a cigarette from the pack and perched it between his lips as he began pat down his pockets for a lighter. Suddenly a hand came from nowhere and snatched it from his mouth.

"I thought I told you to stop smoking." Said a voice with a soft and familiar tone. From out of Blane's viewed stepped in the thief, it was Daisy.

"Hi Daisy," Blane tripped over his words, "I didn't see you there."

"I keep telling you. You're the Sheriff, you're a role model," Daisy said disapproving, wagging the death stick in my face. Daisy stood in a pink and blue striped polo shirt and a skirt. Her hazel brown hair flowing down, resting on her shoulders, with a hair band tucked neatly in the centre, keeping her face free for all to see.

"Yeah you keep saying, I'm a role model. I should probably start going to church too," Blane laughed, "While I'm at it I'll get married and start a beautiful family." With that they both froze and looked away blushing.

"So you're wearing my present," Daisy said looking down at his belt, attempting to ease the tension.

"Yeah," Blane blurted, "yeah, I usually only keep it for special occasions. Thanks again for it. So how have you been?"

"I've been good, the school keeps me pretty busy." She smiled, "I heard what happened yesterday." Blane's heart stopped and tensed up; did Dan tell Davina who proceeded to tell everyone? "With Roland getting drunk like that in the middle of the street and trying to fight you." Blane's heart beat commenced again and took a mental sigh of relief. "Have you spoken to Mel about it? I went over to their place yesterday to check up on her once I heard what happened but nowhere was home. I tried a few times but there was no sign of life and I'm concerned." The horrific possibilities of Melissa's fate filled Daisy's head.

"Don't worry," he rested a hand on her shoulder, consoling her. Blane took a look around him, "Can we speak privately?" he asked leading her behind out of the tents.

"Blane, what's going on?"

"I'm only telling you this because you're one of Melissa's best friends and you have to promise not to tell anyone, ok?"

"Ok Mr Super Spy." Daisy smirked.

"Melissa called me the other day, the trouble at home started again and she needed help."

"Oh my god, is she ok?" Daisy gasped in a whispered voice.

"She's fine, I took her somewhere safe, I can't really go any further than that at the moment but I might need your help with something. Melissa had to leave behind a lot of her things and I was planning on picking some stuff up for her and I'd think it'd be good if one of her friends joined me, you know, point out the stuff they she'll really need."

"Of course I can," Daisy replied, happy that Blane wanted her to join him. Suddenly Frank came wobbled behind the tent carrying an empty beer keg and they quickly span to face him and actual casual.

"Hi Daisy," Frank said in surprise as he set down the keg, Frank then spotted Blane standing behind her. "Oh, hey there Blane. Was I interrupting something?" He continued in a tone heavy in implying. Blane and Daisy both went beat red in embarrassment as they began to stumble with their words trying to explain but Frank just began to laugh, "Don't worry guys, I won't tell a soul." He finished with a wink before disappearing back into his tent.

Still filled to the brim with embarrassment they both said their goodbye while no making at eye contact and proceeded to avoid each for the rest of the day. The Green Finger Festival was a success; everyone was having fun and not an incident in sight, which was a weight off Blane's shoulders seeing the workload he'd face come tomorrow. The day was peaceful and flew in as quickly as it had started.

Now Blane was stood in the darkness of his own home, striped of his smart outfit and downing glass after glass of scotch. The day had invoked somethings for Blane, maybe it was seeing Daisy or seeing all those happy children, whatever it was he knew only one solution, drown the demons in booze. However it didn't always work, the ghosts of his past couldn't just be washed down and this was one of those times, they weren't leaving him tonight. The room was murky, illuminated by the moonlight that flowed through the blinds. The house was humid and the fan span above him but slowly the dull sound of the fan began to change, speed up, get louder and it was the sound of helicopter blades spinning ferociously.

"Whittaker…Whittaker!" distant voices began to echo throughout the house, Blane shut his eyes and clamped them down, trying to block them out but the voices kept calling and suddenly turned to screams of agony that stabbed Blane's ears. He couldn't take it anymore and let out a furious roar that filled the room as he threw his glass against the wall, impacting in near slow motion as it shattered into hundreds of pieces and then, silence, the house was empty again. Blane's phone began to ring and light up the corner of the room. He stumbled towards it to check it, it was Dan, and he answered.

"Sheriff," A shaky and fearful Dan began, "I'm at the town hall, you better get down here now."

Blane's heart dropped, this could not be good. Blane threw on some clothes, grabbed his gun and sprinted out the door. He rushed to Main Street and as he reached the top of it he could see Dan's car parked out front. Blane barrelled down the street to the town hall, gun gripped in his hand, as he got close he could see what was wrong. Ahead of him stood town hall, with lights that faced it, lighting up the town clock at night.

In front of the clock that was a shadowy figure, hanging from a noose.

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 **The plot thickens, don't forget to review please**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is a slightly shorter chapter but I'm looking to update more frequently and the best way it seems is to upload in slightly small parts, plus with more chapters it makes it look like I've done more work, which is a plus**

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Blane's pace slowed as his eyes locked with the dangling corpse, loosening the grip of his gun as the sense of urgency left his body, it wasn't that Blane didn't the discovery of a hanging body an urgent matter he just knew there wasn't anything he could do. Blane reached the end of the road where Dan was stood, right where the Mayor had stood less than a day later earlier talking about how great the town was. Dan was transfixed on the body; he hadn't even noticed Blane's arrival that he jumped when Blane rested his hand on his shoulder. Dan was less dressed than he was. Dan was in his red pyjamas bottoms, his old St. Hopes High School Track Team t-shirt and his usual Chicago White Sox baseball cap.

"Hi Boss," Dan croaked, his face pale as a sheet. He tried to speak but couldn't bring himself to, he couldn't find the words.

"It's ok," Blane reassured him, "Just deep breathes." Dan nodded. "So who found the body?"

"A couple of high school kids," Dan said between breathes, "They were out for a walk when they stumbled upon the body. I called their parents; they were pretty shook up about it."

"You get a list of all their names?"

"Yes sir."

"Good," Blane took one more look at the deceased and sighed heavily. "Now come on, we've got to get that thing down from there before daybreak."

Blane and Dan entered the grey and sombre town hall as they climbed the stairs to roof. As they reached the top they instantly spotted the thick rope tied to one of the vent pipes, stretching across the roof and over the end. Blane peered down over the edge with the body mere feet below him and the lights shooting into his eyes. Dan a distance away was inspecting the rope.

"Come on, help me pull him up." Blane said gabbing hold of the rope with both hands, Dan followed suit.

"How do you know it's a male?" Dan asked.

"From what I could see from above and below, that's not a build common in females, especially around here." They began pulling, lugging the hefty corpse up, "That and it's basically 50/50 odds." With each pull the body got closer and eventually began to arise from the ledge, they kept going until the limp hunk of deceased flesh slumped onto the roof. They slowly approached and hunkered down beside it. It was dark up there and with no flashlight they couldn't clearly see them. Blane took out his phone and using it as a makeshift torch he ran it up the body towards the face. Blane froze once he reached the top; he knew that face, Mr Flatley. Dan began to retch at the sight of his pasty, lifeless body, the first dead body he had ever witnessed. Dan continued to retch and heave. "Dan, if you need to throw up, it's fine, just use the bathroom inside, we can't contaminate the crime scene." Dan nodded with the permission and rushed back inside with his hand over his mouth. Blane took a few steps back to breathe and got on the phone to Tom.

"Hello?" Tom said groggily once he finally answered.

"Tom, it's Blane, I need you to get down to town hall now."

"Can't it wait until morning; it's 4 in the morning." Tom said through a yawn.

"Now!" Blane replied forcefully, "And bring the hearse." Blane waited for Tom's arrival, staring at the outline of the deceased Mr Flatley on that dark abandoned rooftop. After around twenty minutes he heard the quick clanging of feet on the metal stairwell followed by Tom bursting through the door gripping a body bag. Tom's eyes were drawn to the rope and followed it from the pipe to the neck where he gasped.

"Who is it?" Tom enquired with a shaky voice.

"What from I could see, it's Kenneth Flatley, he works," Blane paused for a moment, "worked here."

"Was it suicide?"

"Honestly," Blane had a moment of silent contemplation, "I don't know." Together they removed the noose and loaded the body into the body bag and carried it down to the stretcher by the hearse. As they began to wheel the Kenneth over but Blane suddenly halted, "Give me a second to check the body." Now with some illumination from the lights Blane saw this as the perfect time. He slowly dragged the zip down, revealing the Mr Flatley once more. His eyes first brought to the freed neck, the dark purple plum bruising that ran all the way around. His eyes moved down and Blane quickly found something new, his chest, stained in red, how could he have missed it. He slowly pulled back Flatley's blazer to inspect the once white shirt now with the massive blotch of red, not the kind of stain from spilling wine but the darkened kind of cold blood. Within the blotch he instantly spotted the culprits, three circular holes all spaced out. "Fuck," Blane muttered under his breath as he bowed his, Blane's life just got a whole lot more complicated. He turned to the doctor. "Tom, I need you to do an autopsy."

"An autopsy?" Tom was perplexed. He read Blane's face and grasped the severity of the situation. "Look Blane I usually only deal with bodies that died of natural causes."

"Tom I know you would have done this kind of stuff working at St. Hearts so just do. Take it to the morgue at the funeral parlour." Blane ordered in a frustrated tone and with that there was no more argument, the loaded up Mr Flatley and Tom hurried away. Blane sighed knowing that with the now rising sun his job would go from a snail's pace to a fox being hunted as he made his way to the station where Dan had already disappeared too.

The place was still dead when he entered, the only light coming streaks as the sun hit the lowered blinds. In almost silence there were was the sound of Dan retching from locked bathroom. Blane got to his office and began to dig through his drawers. This was something beyond Blane's usual parameters. He was looking for a notebook, a phone number. Blane needed the state CID, the Criminal Investigations Department. They were essentially state police, a law enforcement agency designed to provide smaller police forces in the state that didn't have the resources to conduct serious criminal investigations, providing things like detectives and forensic teams, ensuring that criminal convictions were secured. Another (less known reason) for the CID was to ensure that people committing crimes in small towns weren't getting off scot free because they were friends with the right people and that the police themselves hadn't been compromised. In cases of 'standard' murder they didn't get involved, a husband killing his wife and hiding the bloody murder weapon in his shed was considered a straight forward arrest and conviction but Blane didn't see this as standard and he wanted to play it safe, having someone who was experienced in this sort of thing meant a quicker case closing and less of an oncoming scandal. Finally he found it, buried under a stack of papers with a thin layer of dust. Blane flicked through the book until he found and quickly punched in the number. He waited patiently as he rang and rang; people were probably winding off their night shift and were handing over the responsibilities to their morning shift colleagues, that transfer was always the worst time to call but Blane waited nonetheless, finally someone picked.

"Hello?" A sleeping female voice spoke. "Illinois Central Investigation Department."

"Hi," Blane said awkwardly, "my name is Sheriff Blane Whittaker, I'm the sheriff for St. Hopes and the general Bruner County area. I was hoping to speak to some in charge. It's quite an urgent matter sorry."

"Ok Sheriff Whittaker, if you'll just hold on for a second while I just check a couple details. What's you badge number?"

"My badge number is," Blane pondered for a moment, "24065."

"24065," she said to herself silently before falling silent with the sound of shuffling papers, "Sheriff Whittaker, Bruner County, yep that seems fine, let me check whose around." She fell silent again as there was quiet talking in the background, Blane couldn't make out what they were saying but it sounded like bickering. She returned, "Could I just ask what it's in relation to?"

"Well there seems to be quite a serious crime and it's beyond what we normally have the resources to handle, I was hoping to see if I could request a couple investigators to come down to check it out."

"Ok," she moved away from the receiver to relay the message, "If you could hold for a moment I'll transfer you." There was a click and it went back to ring couple more times before it was picked up.

"Hello, this is Major Richard Elson, Sheriff Whittaker is it?" A gruff voice answered

"Yes." He responded.

"You just caught me getting in." The Major said before taking a sip, "So what is it you need, investigators is it?"

"Yes, there's been what seems to be a murder and our station doesn't really have the capacity for this kind of crime. There's just myself and one deputy."

"What do you mean 'seems to be?'"

"The body had three shots to the chest. I know it's a lot to ask but it's extremely rare we get a crime of his severity in our area."

"Look, we're stretched thin as it is and I got have any detectives available but let me make a few calls and I'll try send someone up to you." He said sympathetically.

"That's great, thank you." Blane said with a sigh of relief. They exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

Now all there was to do was to call the Mayor to inform him. Blane didn't know what to say to him, all he could do was give the cold hard fact. Mr Kenneth Flatley was dead. It could possibly have been a murder and that they needed to have a meeting as soon as possible.

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 **Hopeful I'll be able to update sooner. Also I'd just like to point out that the 'Bruner county' and Major Elson are actually references to creator and director of the series, just thought it'd be a fun little thing**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thought I'd barrel through another chapter today. Again, not a lengthy one but shorter chapters mean a faster narrative.**

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A few hours had passed, the sun was up and the day anew. Blane had time to clean up and almost clear his head or the impending onslaught. Blane got the call from the Mayor's office almost instantly once it hit 9am. Millar's voice beaming with anger, panic and without sorrow he ordered Blane get down there immediately. Blane dressed in his uniform, his actual Sheriff uniform, something he wore as much as his smart attire. A beige coloured shirt, Blane rolled the sleeves up, and hickory brown trousers. Wearing a uniform reminded Blane too much of the military. However in situations like Blane needed to wear it, the uniform gave a sense of authority and intimidated people, in this case hopefully to minimise the Mayor's fury that was going to land directly on Blane's head. Once ready he marched over to the town hall, rushing and keeping his head down when he saw people. Finally he got to the top floor, to the mayor Millar's office. Blane had to walk down the long narrow corridor to the office, it felt like a death row inmate on his final walk to the chair. He reached the door and as his hand hovered over the handle he took and deep breath and entered. The Mayor was sat behind his desk, his head in his hands, with a bottle of gin by his side with a half empty glass perched beside it. McNab was sat in the corner silently contemplating, he noticed Blane first and they locked eyes. Before Blane could speak to announce his arrival Millar lifted his head with a large inhale through his nose as he ran his hands through his hair in stress. His eyes locked on Blane.

"Whittaker! What the hell is going?" Millar asked in dread and alarm. Blane approached the desk but didn't take a seat; he stood in front of Mayor Darren Millar, upright, serious.

"We found Kenneth early this morning. His body was hanging from the top of the town hall." Blane answered. Darren's eyes arched up above him, the thought that Flatley's dead body was right above where he had mere hours ago made him feel sick, he took around mouthful of gin.

"What do you mean hanging?"

"There was a noose around his neck, it was tied at the roof and his body was dangling in front of the clock."

"Wait," Darren paused, "So it was suicide? I thought you said it was murder in your message."

"Well," Blane began, "I'm pretty sure it was, once we got him off the roof I discovered he had three bullet wounds in his chest."

"Maybe he tried shooting himself and then hanged himself for good measure." McNab chimed in.

"I find that very unlikely," Blane gave him a sour glare, "Why would someone do that unless they had some kind of god like impression of himself. Plus, we didn't find a gun in initial inspection of the scene and I doubt a man committing suicide would take the time to hide a gun after shooting himself but before tying a noose around his neck." Blane had shot down McNab's useless theory who snorted in defeat. Suddenly the Mayor's phone began to ring and Millar gritted his teeth, picked up the receiver and slammed it back down. His eyes boiled in rage as he looked back at Blane.

"I have had concerned parents calling my office nonstop all morning. How the hell did they know about this before I did, I'm the goddamn mayor, I'm supposed to be running this town." Millar yelled.

"The body was found by a couple kids." Blane awkwardly explain, "They were pretty shaken up about it so Dan called their parents to take them home. I guess they told their parents and with news this big, it was bound to spread fast." Darren Millar groaned in response as he poured him another glass to calm himself and he didn't look like he was keen on sharing, somewhat to Blane disappointment.

"Where are we so far?" Darren enquired.

"I've ordered Tom to do a full autopsy. Hopefully we should have the results pretty soon but Tom hasn't done anything like this in a while."

"Christ," Darren took another gulp and stared out the window overlooking main street, "murder, in a place like St. Hopes. We haven't had a murder here since." He cut himself off and looked over at Blane. "Well, it wasn't murder but you know what I mean." Blane nodded sombrely, "Blane, I want you to lead on this and keep this under wraps, if anyone from upstate hears about this," gulp, "Hell I'm going to be crucified at the next town meeting for this."

"Actually sir," Blane noted, the Mayor's face dropped, "I already notified the state CID."

"What!" Millar shouted slamming his fist on the desk; McNab was also shocked as his eyes widened as he almost leapt from his chair "Who said you could do that?"

"With all due respect, we do not have resources for a criminal investigation. Like you said, there hasn't been a murder in this town in a very long time and we need all the help we can get."

"That wasn't your call to make." McNab stated.

"Quite frankly, yes it was." Blane began to raise his voice, "I am this town's sheriff and it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of this town and that justice is served. So yes it was my call and I say we need an experienced investigator who will be able to have an unbiased view of this town and guarantee whoever committed this harrowing act feels the full extent of the law." The Mayor shut his mouth, Blane made and excellent point and slumped back in his chair and buried his face in his hands once more.

"When are they getting here?" He said in a muffled voice.

"They didn't give an exact time but they said they'd send some detectives up."

"Fine," Darren raised his head back up to face them. "Just don't wear this when you meet them." He gestured to Blane's uniform, "You never look right in it, wear something smart." Blane sarcastically thought to himself which of vast array of smart clothes would he wear.

Suddenly a knock on the door behind Blane and a voice

"Hello, I'm Special Agent Oscar Cole; I'm looking for a Sheriff Whittaker."

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 **So there you go, I've introduced Oscar, I'm sure they'll please a few people. Please don't forget to review. I need your validation to survive**


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the delay, the website has been acting up, please enjoy**

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"I'm looking for a Sheriff Whittaker."

Everyone's ears pricked and eyes instantly snapped to the door. Stood in the doorway was a slender man with neat and prim dirty blonde hair. He wore a suit, single-breasted, coal black, a sharp fit, accompanied by a striped tie, maroon red, sapphire blue and cotton white. He looked like he had stepped out of a cover from TIME magazine. In his hand he held a briefcase, a black that almost matched his suit. The men just stared at him, surprised at his arrival. His eyes widened in shock, being taken back by the three heads that all shot in his direction as soon as he spoke.

"Is this a bad time?" The special agent asked timidly.

"What? No, no it's fine." Blane responded snapping from his stare.

"Oh, excellent," the agent said in relief as the intense glaring ceased. He entered was great enthusiasm, "As I said, my name is Oscar Cole," Oscar began to shake each of their hands with a firm and vigorous jolt, first impressions, "I've been sent down after a request for assistance was put in by Sheriff Whittaker," Oscar looked Blane up and down, noting the uniform and badge, "and I'm presuming that would be you. Hello Sheriff."

"I wasn't expecting you so soon." Blane explained, revealing why he was so surprised.

"That's alright," Oscar smiled, "I had just wrapped up another case one county over so I was nearby." With that there was a long silence as the men simply nodded to one another, "Well gentlemen, if you excuse us, Sheriff Whittaker and I should get cracking on this investigation."

"Oh of course," Mayor Millar blurted out as he sprang up to see them out, almost rushing them through the door before bidding them farewell and shutting, followed by the locking of the door. The two lawmen paused and watched the door, both finding the Mayor's eagerness to get rid of them and locking his door peculiar, both concluding that he was just wanting to drinking without any more interruptions. They both shrugged it off and carried on down the hall.

"So Sheriff, where would you suggest is best to start?" Oscar enquired as they made their way out onto the street.

"Well the body has been taken to the morgue we have at the town funeral parlour, our town Doctor, Thomas Tupper, is conducting the autopsy."

"So we should head there Sheriff."

"Not just yet, I told Tom to contact me as soon as he's finished. Plus, with a day like this I need to get some coffee in me." Blane smirked, "And please, just call me Blane, agent Cole."

"Sure thing, Blane," Oscar gave a half smile, "and you can just call me Oscar."

The two walked in silence the rest of the journey, Oscar took this time to soak in the town' centre, small, simple, elegant. The streets themselves were deserted but he could spot heads poking up from behind shop windows, they caught his eye, Blane ignored them and kept his front. The station was just up ahead, Oscar's car was parked up out front. It was a Ford, a Fusion or a Focus, Blane couldn't help, either way, it matched Oscar's love for Blane. It was this clear affection for dark colours that confirmed he was a federal agent for Blane. They got closer and closer, then Blane continued past it with Oscar stopping for a moment in confusion and then scampering to catch up with Blane.

"Where are we going?" Oscar queried as he caught up.

"We're going to get you a proper induction to the town," Blane explained before stopping in his tracked to stare Oscar in the eyes, "with a cup of coffee that might just bring tears."

Oscar chuckled nervously as he followed Blane to the end of Main Street and cut right and down. Soon they found themselves at a diner. They stood for a moment facing it before entering. As Oscar followed suit he glanced up at the neon sign overhead. The sign was off so in dull blue piping it spelt 'Len's Diner.' As he entered behind Blane he found the diner to also be empty. The diner was one long room; booths with cushiony red leather chairs lined half the room along the windows. The other half had the bar with red leather stools lining it. Blane was stood at the bar speaking to someone.

"Hi Lenny," Blane began, "we need a booth, one at the back, and can we get two cups of coffee, black." Blane stepped to the side, extending his arm to introduce Oscar who was too deep trying to observe the space. He quickly released Blane eyes were burning into him with a confused look and jumped, returning to reality. Blane had nothing to say and simple turned back to Lenny, "Anyway," Blane chuckled, "he's new here and I think a pot of Lenny's famous coffee would be a decent welcome wagon."

"Sure thing." Lenny answered in a gruff voice.

As Blane began to head to the back Oscar followed behind, grudging along the black and white checkered floor. Just before disappeared into the back Oscar took a check of the owner. Lenny was African-American, middle-aged, fifties perhaps. A thinly trimmed beard with a couple grey hairs spread out amongst it, on top a cream beanie hat wrapped around his head. Overall, there was a feel blue-collar feel about him, someone who had to work had to get where he was but then again this was rural America, this town was hardly full of one percenters, and he considered that the rules of social class didn't quite apply here. Oscar dropped all these thoughts of classes in society as he joined Blane in the booth. They slid into opposite end of the booth as they sank into soft red leather. They sat silent as Blane gazed out the window for a moment.

"So you're not state CID are you?" Blane asked turning his attention back to Oscar. "There's no way they'd get here this quickly."

"Well I must confess I'm not State Police," Oscar admitted as he wished out his wallet and opened it up to show Blane his badge and ID, "Special Agent Oscar Cole with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Well," Blane grinned, impressed, "our very own Federal agent to help save the day."

"Actually Sheriff," Oscar said sombrely, using Blane's title to convey his seriousness, "I need you to understand something, obviously your help with his investigation will be invaluable but as you're involved me that means I'm leading it, call the shots. I hope you can come to terms with that"

"That's totally fine, I wouldn't have requested an investigator if I didn't need help. This really beyond my realm of duties," Blane assured him, "There hasn't even been a murder in St. Hopes for at least two years before this."

"That's good." Oscar sighed with relief, "It's just some people can get territorial about these matters."

"Anyway, what's a fed doing on a homicide case in the middle of nowhere?" Blane was suspicious; he sat up straight in the booth to face Oscar directly.

"I know it seems peculiar," he admitted embarrassedly, "The main CID office didn't have any detectives available but I had been listening on the wire for reports, like I said, I had just closed a different case and I was looking for a new one." Blane maintained his stare, he wasn't convinced, "And by superiors had been telling me I should take a break, I have a lot of holiday time saved up," he laughed, "This case seemed pretty straightforward so I thought I'd kill two birds with stone. Catch a kill and then take in the countryside."

Blane gave him an odd look, who thought like that?

Suddenly there was a figure standing over them, it was Helen holding a tray of coffee. Helen was Lenny's wife; Helen was the free-spirited type, with long and curled summer red hair, she believed in the power of Mother Nature, certainly a product of peace and love lifestyle in the 70's. As she quietly set down the coffee in front of them Blane thanked her and smiled the kind without teeth. Helen frozen, staring at Blane, not even acknowledging Oscar.

"Sheriff," she said quietly with a definite shakiness in her voice, "Is it true?" Blane awkwardly looked over at Oscar. "Is Kenneth dead?" Blane took a deep inhale

"I'm afraid so." He said avoiding eye contact.

"That's terrible." She began to choke up, "He was a lovely man. I was fixing up his car, it's still in the shop." She spoke, finding it hard speak amongst the oncoming tears. "Was it suicide?"

"I'm sorry Helen; I can't discuss the details of the case." Blane gave an apologetic look and glanced over at Oscar who had tensed up in sear awkwardness.

"I understand." She said through her sobs before rushing into the back.

"I'm sorry about that," Blane apologised as he reached for the sugar and began to apply it to his coffee, three spoons full, "News travels fast in a town like this and," he gazed out the window, "the deceased was quite active in the community."

"That's understandable." Oscar began pouring his sugar, an average one spoon full, and stirring his cup casually. He placed the spoon down and slowly raised the cup to his lips. Blane froze to watch Oscar's reaction as took his first drink. Oscar's throat gulped as the coffee ran down his insides. His eyes locked open and his eyebrows rose in surprise. Blane grinned. Oscar slowly removed the cup from his lips, his mouth still and speechless. "That is a damn fine cup of coffee." He uttered.

"I told you." Blane smirked, "Now, there would you like to start?"

"We'll get cracking on the case once we get a call from your man but first, what is a guy your age doing as the county Sheriff?" Oscar curiously asked. Blane began to laugh, throwing his head back, staring at the ceiling and then dropping his head, again with these questions.

"You have no idea how many times I've heard that question." Blane said through his laugh as he raised his head and ran his hands through his hair. "I was the deputy before that and when the previous sheriff had to leave due to medical reasons. The mayor appointed me as an emergency sheriff until they could elect a new one and well," Blane shrugged his shoulders, "I just stuck from there."

"So you're always been in law enforcement?"

"God no," Blane scoffed, "I was military before that."

"Really?" Oscar was intrigued now. "Where did you serve?"

"Well I enlisted straight out of high school, served most my time in Grenada." Blane stared down at his coffee.

"That must have been rough," news story and pictures of the war from years started to come to Oscars mind, he couldn't imagine being in a dark and damp hole like Blane must have, "What Battalion were you in?"

Blane looked up from his cup when suddenly his phone began to ring, it was Tom.

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 **Hope you liked it. Don't forget to review. I should state here for the record, in reference to Blane's time in Grenada, the story is not based in the 80's at the time of the actual American War in Grenada. It is modern day and it is just a fictional conflict based in Grenada.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry for the long pause. This is a rather short and boring chapter. I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things before I get to writing some longer, stronger chapters**

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Staring down at this limp pasty body made Blane crave a smoke. The dull hum of the lights that gave the morgue a sickly clinical feeling. Kenneth Flatley, lifeless and cold to the touch. What on earth did he get himself mixed up in?

"I put the time of death around the 72 hour mark." Tom's voice called over in the distance as he made his way over to them. Blane's attention was brought back to the world of the living and away from the realm of hypotheticals and theories. Tom reached the table and opened his mouth to continue his analysis but froze, only now noticing this finely dressed blond stranger stood by the examination table. His eyes instantly snapped to meet Blane's. Their eyes locked and after a brief moment Blane's hamster began spinning its wheel again, remembering the need for introduction.

"Ah, yes," Blane blurted out, "Tom, this is Agent Oscar Cole, he's a Fed that's been sent down to help." He noted, gesturing to Oscar. "Oscar, Tom Tupper MD," he gestured to Tom, "The town Doctor."

"Really, FBI?" Tom inquired in excitement and shock.

"Yeah," Oscar replied casually, feeling Tom's enthusiasm was somewhat unwarranted. "So you're the doctor for the entire town?" Now this, Oscar found peculiar.

"Well, yes but it's not so bad." Tom tried to act humble, "Sure it's a big responsibility but it's all worth it." There was a sudden and excruciatingly uncomfortable pause between the Fed and the Doc finally broken by the Sheriff actively clearing his throat to get everyone back on track. Tom got the hint and began to through on rubber gloves, "As you can see, Mr Flatley was shot three times in the chest." Now in clear light, without the clothes and the heavy stains they could see them, three holes, clumped close together in a near triangle formation. "Now I'm not the detective here but shots like these aren't the type you get from a mugging gone wrong."

"Premeditated, clearly by someone who knew what they were doing." Oscar stated, "murder of a state official, this has gotten a lot more serious. It's a good thing you called for assistance." The Agent and the Sheriff nodded in agreement.

"So what about the rope, the noose?" Blane asked

"That was what I possibly found the most strange," Tom began as he showed them a closer look at the bruising on the neck. "See the colour and how it's formed, the body wouldn't do that with normal blood flow. Flatley was already dead when the noose went around the neck. Why would they hang a deadman?"

"To send a message." Blane stated with a heavy sigh. He turned and began to take few steps away, running his hands through his hair and breathing deeply through his nose in frustration. Why? Just why did this have to happen to this town? To him? "I have to tell you guys some." Blane began to confess. "The day before last, I was called out to investigate a car collision, thing had swerved straight off the road and into a ditch but there no driver in sight." Blane paused, taking a breath to compose himself, "There were massive blood stains on the inside. It was the day before Harvest festival opening and I couldn't just abandon it. So I placed it in storage to investigate after the opening day. And then of course this happened" Oscar's expression turned to a critical one.

"And when were you planning on revealing this information?" Oscar scowled.

"Look I told you didn't I. I chose the peace at such an event as my priority. And yes I know it doesn't take Columbo to see these are linked." Blane felt slightly embarrassed about the whole situation, Oscar changed from critical to understanding.

"Look it's alright, the investigation has just begun and at least we have evidence that'll help us get started." Oscar smiled to console Blane and it worked, he smiled back. "I've a friend who works in Forensics, I'm sure I could convince her to come down and lend a hand. You think you could bring us round to have a look at it."

* * *

 **Again sorry for the dull chapter, hopefully get some more out soon that are more eventful. Don't forget to review**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here you go, a slightly longer chapter, enjoy**

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As they slowly rambled out of the storage unit having the heavily suspicious Lincoln just been revealed to them Oscar inspected the surrounding security. There was no doubt in the Federal Agent's mind that this car was linked to the now deceased Kenneth Flatley and he had to make sure it was secure. After a couple minutes of meticulous examination by Oscar, while Blane and Tom stood idly discussing the state of the car and where it was found, he had come to the conclusion that it would do.

"I'll give my colleague a call to come down to assist with the investigation." Oscar explained as he rifled through his jacket for his phone. Pulling it down, he scrolled through his contacts, dialed and then waited patiently until the long dull rings came to a stop and someone answered. "Hello?" Oscar said, Tom and Blane could only hear one half of the conversation. "It's Oscar. Rose I was hoping you could help me out." He glanced at the others and began to walk away to continue the talk in private. The others stood quietly trying to figure out what Oscar was saying. From the distance they couldn't make out much but Blane could gather some. Asking her to come down. Explaining the case. Then something about the previous case, and from Oscar's face, it didn't sound like a positive subject. Oscar finished the call and made his way back, Tom and Blane quickly looked away to cover up their prying. "That was my friend Rose, she's agreed to join the investigation but it'll take a day to get all the necessary equipment for this kind of case."

"Equipment?" Tom asked giddily, "Like CSI?"

"Almost," Oscar chuckled, "Portable forensic kits can be heavy duty and we'll need one of our mobile crime lab to analysis it all. The paperwork can be hell."

"So where should we start?" Blane asked, "Kenneth's place?" Oscar looked away for a moment.

"Yes," he began,"But first I'm going to have to get somewhere to stay." He sounded embarrassed, "I thought this was gonna be an open-shut case, I didn't even bring an close with me. I am going to have to check in somewhere. I get the feeling I'm gonna be here for a while."

"You could try the Denville Inn." Tom added

"An Inn?"

"It's really more of a Bed & Breakfast kind of place," Blane corrected, "They just decided to go with calling it an Inn and it stuck."

"That sounds like it could work."

"And if you need to you can borrow some of my clothes." Tom said, again with a tone packed with a bit too much enthusiasm. There was a moment of silence as Oscar and Tom stared at one another, taking note of the opposites height and build, particularly the drastic difference of such between the two men. Tom gave out two awkward laughs. "Maybe you could borrow Blane's instead." Blane said nothing and simply gave Tom a look.

"Right," Oscar felt awkward about the proposal, "Well if you two could show me the way I'll head head over there now and then we could can go to Flatley's"

"Or Tom could take you and I could go to Flatley's place and secure the area." Blane suggested. Oscar took a moment to run it through his head. He was leading this investigation so he should be first on site but this way he could get two jobs done at once and any evidence would be found sooner.

"Ok," Oscar conceded, "You check out his house and give me a call if you find anything." He handed Blane one of his cards and turned to Tom. "And you, you're taking me to this so called Inn."

And with that they parted ways and wandered in opposite directions. Oscar and Tom walked together through the town, now buzzing with people going about their day, the sun shining overhead. Oscar was slightly unnerved, everyone was smiling, everyone. Saying hello to one another and stopping to have a pleasant chat in the middle of the street at the mere sight of one another. A man had just died, hung from town hall and everyone seemed ok with it all. As they walked along the streets people greeted Tom with wide smiles and bright eyes, but only for Tom. People looked at Oscar with a face of caution, everyone knew everyone and nobody knew him. Having worked in big cities so much this was the type of greeting he was more accustomed to. As they continued Oscar started to think about this young sheriff who was protecting this town. Who was this guy? Who was he going to be working with? He kept the car a secret, did he have any other secrets?

"How long have you known Blane?" Oscar asked, trying to sound casual.

"Most of my life I guess. He was a couple of grades above me in high school and then he left for a while and came back."

"That when he left for the army?"

"I guess it was, Blane doesn't talk much about it."

"But you know him pretty well?"

"Since he came back and joined the Sheriff's department yeah, we've gotten to know each other, great guy."

"Do you know what regiment he served in while he was gone?" Oscar was starting to get a lot intrusive with his questions.

"Here we are." Tom called out, stopping flatout and presenting Oscar with the Denville Inn. Tall and red bricked. "Here is where I'll leave you. Just head inside and they'll sort you with a room."

"Why don't you come inside."

"I can't," Tom said with a shaky voice as he began backing away. "I've got a thing...that I need to examine...at the place." Tom was grasping at straws for an excuse now. "Just….tell Zara I said hello." And with that the doctor hurried away. Oscar laughed lightly to himself, knowing that look before.

Oscar entered into the quiet Inn and was met with the front desk, with a young woman behind it staring into a pocket mirror. She was blonde and ditzy looking. Oscar approached and only after he got right next to it she noticed him. Her eyes shifted away from the mirror and were first met by the suit. Her eyes run up his tie until they final reached his face. However she didn't say anything and simply stared at him.

"Hello, I'm looking to get a room?" He asked.

"Sure." she finally blurted, "I'm Zara." she composed herself, extending her hand to be shake but as their hands met she shook it like as if she were royale, soft and limp, which severely confused Oscar. "So what kind of room are you looking for. King size? Double?"

"Just a single bed please." He interrupted. "Zara was it?" she nodded grinning, "Tom Tupper sends his regards."

"Who?" She replied. Oscar's froze, realising the severity of Tom's predicament with this girl.

"Doesn't matter."

"Well we've got a single room available. How many days will you be staying?"

"I'm not too sure. Can I just get the room on a daily payment."

"You're not from around here are you?" She asked skittishly.

"No, no, I'm here on, business." he replied. Zara continued her smirk at him as she shrugged at his vagueness, turning around a grabbing one of the room keys behind her.

"Up the stairs and third door on the left. I'll be up in a few minutes with some towels and anything else you need." She handed him the key before quickly going back to check her appearance as he left. Oscar began to walk toward the stairs but stopped, formulating an idea and taking those steps back.

"Zara, you wouldn't happen to know a Blane Whittaker at all would you?"

"Blane Whittaker?" Her eyes widen in eagerness, "The Sheriff."

"Yeah, I was looking to learn a bit more about him. Do you have any stories about him." Oscar acted innocently.

"Oh my god yes," She began as she leant forward, getting into the gossiping position

…..

 **3 years ago**

The dead of night. The ice on his breath. Home. Sergeant Blane Whittaker of the 33rd Infantry Division walked in solitude into his past. St. Hopes. He hadn't stepped foot in this town in 6 years and now he was back. His hefty jacket kept him warm, the jacket he had since day one of his service. He walked among the streets, empty and quiet, dark with few lights to illuminate them. In the darkness there was a light. Bright and neon, saying "Lenny's Diner." This the strong red colour and the lights inside it gave a very welcoming and comfortable vibe. Blane made his way inside. The place was near empty, just the owners standing behind the counter cleaning up and a young couple sharing at late night milkshake. A bell rang as Blane opened the door, attracting their immediately attention.

"Are you still open?" Blane asked quietly, his voice gruff and sore.

"Yeah, yeah." The two said warmly. One an aged black man, a beard with a beanie atop his head. The other a woman, ginger hair, long and curly. "Take a seat," they invited him to sit by the counter, he took it.

Sat there, hunched over the counter, hands running through his hair, breathing deeply through his nose. He could hear them again, the drums, the gunfire, the screams.

"Coffee?" a soft voice said, snapping Blane out of it as he flicked his head up to see the woman, "Do you want coffee?" she asked again after no response, gesturing to the coffee pot in her hand. Blane nodded but remained silent as she poured the cup. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Do you have any pie?" Blane grasped.

"As a matter of fact we do," she smiled, "Cherry, I'll go you a slice."

She returned a few moments later and placed it in front of him, sweet red cherry. Blane began to wolf it down, taking sips of the coffee. He had his head down eating but as he looked up he saw the man standing in front of him, cleaning a glass.

"So you're military?" He said pointing at the US Army badge on the jacket. "What you doing all the way out here?"

"I'm home. I just got back."

"Well welcome, I'm Lenny and you've already met my wife, Helen."

"Yeah, Lenny, I use to come round here when I was younger."

"Wait," Lenny stopped and took a good long stare at Blane, it was hard to see under the thick beard but Lenny eventually caught on. "Blane? Blane Whittaker? You use to play on the Football team right?"

Blane laughed softly, "yeah that was me. That's going way off."

"Yeah it really was. 6 years or so. Where you been all this time?"

"I enlisted straight out of high school. And now I'm back."

"What are you gonna do now that you're back?"

"I have no idea..."

And with that the diner door swung open and entered four rough, thuggish men. They were some guys who had shown up in town a few days previous, they were outsiders, there doing odd jobs and generally making people uncomfortable with their rowdiness and antics. They walked in silently and sat around one both, still no talking. Lenny had a look in his eye, he knew these guys were trouble but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Helen, with her coffee pot in hand approached them, looking to treat them like any normal customer when suddenly they stood from the table as one. The night took a dark turn. One drew a pistol while another pulled a knife. Helen screamed and dropped the pot of coffee. The men began to fan out the diner, covering the exit and the young couple. The gunman began to shout, demanding wallets and the opening of the register but Blane didn't hear a word. The drums were back, drilling into his soul. The gunman approached the counter, aimed at Lenny who had his hands up. He saw Blane, saw he wasn't following his orders. He pressed the barrel into his back.

"Turn out your goddamn pockets." The man whispered into Blane's ear. A switch flipped. Blane saw white.

Blane gripped his coffee mug and tossed it over his shoulder, into the man's face. the burning sizzle could be heard under the man's screaming. Blane jerked his elbow back, digging the man in the chest, causing him to drop the gun and fall backwards. He stood to be met by one of the others charging at him. Blane got him with a hook, grabbed him by the collar and flung him over a table. As he had his back turned Blane felt a sudden and sharp (yet all too familiar) pain in his shoulder. It was a switchblade that one of the thugs had driven into Blane's back. He spun around and punched the backstabber, taking him by the head and forcing his face into the counter, teeth spraying everywhere. Blane reached over his shoulder and yanked out the knife in one swift move. Holding the blood stained blade, Blane saw the previous thug getting up from the floor and charging at Blane. Without thinking Blane flung the switchblade at him. The knife speared through the air, landing in the thug's neck. Blood began to spray as he fell to his knees gasping but choking on blood. He fell lifeless and Blane looked up at the last standing who was stood by the exit. As Blane began walking towards him the final thug began fumbling, reaching for a gun. Blane hurled himself over a table to reach the other gun. Hitting the floor and sweeping up the pistol in his tight grip he fired three rounds into his opponent. Each landing in his chest, each jerking him backwards until finally falling through the glass of the main door. Blane froze for a moment, staring back and forth at the gun and the body hanging out the door. Finally he stood, placed the gun on the counter and looked around to see if anyone needed help. He saw Lenny, staring at him in shock. Suddenly the now burnt face thug barrelled out through the hole and out of the diner, stumbling down the street in pain. Blane charged out after him. He tackled the thug to the ground, turned him onto his back and punched him in the face.

and punched him again and again

….

 **Now**

"They say after that the mayor and sheriff arranged a meeting with him to convince him to join the police force and become the new sheriff just like that." Zara rambled on as she opened the door to Oscar's room for him.

"Thank you," Oscar said politely entering and setting his briefcase. suddenly his phone began to ring. "Hello?" he said as he answered it.

"Oscar, it's Blane. You're gonna wanna get to Flatley's place."

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 **Hope you liked it, don't forget to review**


	9. Chapter 9

**Welcome to the New Year and hope less of me putting off writing and actually writing interesting content. Enjoy**

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The Federal Agent approached the small, quaint home of the now deceased Mr Flatley. There, sat on the steps of the front porch was Blane, hunched over, his head bowed with smoke periodically rising out of sight. As Oscar got closer Blane raised his head, a cigarette perched between his lips. In a moment of silence Oscar could see it in his eyes, bad news awaited inside.

"You got some gloves in that case of yours?" Blane asked, Oscar nodded in response, "Good, we're gonna need it." Blane stood, walked to the end of the pavement and flicked his smoke. Opening the case Oscar took out two pairs of blue rubber gloves for himself and Blane. Once on they ventured inside.

The place was a wreck, completely tossed over, like there was a stampede of buffalo or maybe someone had broken in and searched desperately looking for anything of value, or more likely someone looking for something in particular. question was, What? They explored slowly, stepping carefully over the debris across the floor. In the living room, the couch had been torn into, its soft insides spread around the room. On the desk were various cables, clearly there had been a computer and possibly a hard drive that had been ripped out. The kitchen was in a similar state. The bedroom had numerous holes in the walls, most small swift strikes but there was one large gaping hole, something had hidden in the wall and whoever was here wanted it badly. Finally was the study, with more tossed object and stray wires. Papers had been flung around the room and covered the desk. Blane began to go through the papers, scanning for anything useful or prominent to the case but everything was jumbled, making it near impossible to make sense of it all. Finally after minutes of investigating Blane found a lone sticky note with only two pieces of writing 'Critchley's, 2.00 pm, 03/09/2015.' Bingo.

"Hey Cole, I've found something." Blane called out to Oscar, he returned to find Blane holding the note with with pleased grin. Blane handed it over. "We've got an appointment he had, and it was a week before he wound up dead."

"Now we just need to figure out who or what is Critchley. Any idea?" Oscar enquired

"Oh I know exactly who Critchley is." Blane explained bluntly. "When is your CSI buddy getting here?"

"If traffic isn't too bad, probably 3 hours." Oscar answered checking his watch.

"Get her to come straight here, There's probably a lot more to uncover here. I'll have Dan lock this place down."

With the plan now in agreement the two stepped side to use their phones, Oscar texting Rose the new destination, Blane ordering Dan to get down there and to bring the tape and reiterating not to touch anything. They both finished up and turned back.

"Right, let's go check out this lead." Blane stated, Oscar glanced at his watch again.

"It's getting pretty late in the day, are you sure?"

"Trust me, he's a late worker." And with that they carefully left.

Now back in the centre of town the Sheriff and the Agent reached the small law office of one Stewart Critchley, Attorney-At-Law. They stood at the door but suddenly stopped there.

"You better head in first." Blane explained.

"Why?" Oscar was puzzled. Blane quickly rifled through his pockets, pulling an excuse in the form of a pack of cigarettes, shaking it as answer before lighting one up. Oscar simply shrugged it off and entered alone. The office had an inviting decor, mostly made of rich wood. The place was near empty, only one man sat at one of the back desks with his back to the front. Oscar approached and knocked on the hardwood table. The man jerked and span in his chair, shocked up to see this intimidating black suited man standing before him. "Agent Cole, FBI." He pulled out his badge to the man, "I'm looking for Stewart Critchley."

"That's me," he answered, Critchley was a slim fellow with a non threatening look about him, clearly not strong enough to have carried a body like Flatley's. His hair was blond and at least attempted to brushed neat. In a cloud grey suit and black tie he seemed like a respectable attorney, not the sleazy kind Cole has encountered in the past. "FBI? Is this about the sightings?" Stewart asked in a hushed tone. This grabbed Oscar's attention, what did he see? This could crack the case wide open. "So are you like Mulder or something? Scully?" Oscar was lost now. "You know, investigating the X-Files." Oscar's face scrunched up, who was this clown?

"This is serious. Mr Critchley, I'm here in regards to the death of one Mr Kenneth Flatley."

"I am so sorry." Stewart apologised, realising how odd he must have sounded. "You just looked like someone who wanted to believe." Oscar's face scrunched again. "I hadn't realised the severity of the situation." Stewart began to get up to shake his hand, Oscar extended his hand but only noticed Critchley's clear impairment, a missing arm, his right arm. "Oh yeah, I forget it can freak some out." He laughed gesturing to the empty sleeve. "So you're here on the case. Are you working with Blane?"

"Yes the Sheriff is assisting in the investigation." They both glanced back at the window to see Blane puffing away, "Now I'm here about..." Oscar stopped himself, "How do you two know each other?"

"We go way back." Stewart's eyes lit up with a nostalgic grin. "We were best friends at high school. Sure he was the popular wide receiver and I was just the nerd but he always stuck by me. We even served together for a while."

"Served? You were in the army as well?" Oscar would not have guessed that.

"Yeah," Stewart replied, not overly enthusiastic about the entire experience. "He served a lot longer than I did. I got discharged after I...well." He gestured to the sleeve again. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just trying to get a feel for the guy, get to know him."

"Good luck," Stewart laughed, "He's been pretty shut off as of late."

"How long?"

"Probably going on 6 years now." Stewart chuckled again. And with that they heard the door creaked open. Blane entered and slowly walked to the others. He was quiet, near silent. "Hey Blane." Stewart cheerfully said hugging his best friend tight. Blane hugged back lightly, cracking a gentle smile.

"Hi Stewart." He replied softly, feeling, feeling something he hadn't in awhile, a warm embrace. The hug seemed to last a lifetime but eventually they parted leaving a brief silence among the Sheriff, the Agent and the Attorney. "So Stew, we're here about Mr Flatley." Blane broke the silence, "Obviously you already know about his passing. We're just trying to piece together the events leading up. We found some documentation stating he had an appointment with you."

"Really?" Stewart paused to think of the appointment, "Do you know what date it was?"

"The 3rd of March, about a week before his death." Oscar replied. Stewart pondered some more.

"Oh yes," he had a light bulb moment, "He came in for some consultation on his Health insurance. Wanted me to look over it and any issues, liabilities or coverage."

"Was there anything out of the ordinary with it."

"No it seemed pretty much all in order," Stewart began to look embarrassed, "But I gotta be honest, I've been swamped with property acquisitions I've barely had time to look at it depth."

"Do you have a copy of it?"

"Somewhere in the back, let me check." Stewart began to disappear out the back but not before spinning around for one last line. "But I might need a hand." He began to laugh, Blane joined in but Oscar couldn't bring himself to laugh, seemed too sensitive a topic. A few moments later he returned with a stack of papers. "Like I said, nothing seemed out of order but feel free to go through it." Oscar then proceeded to place the documents in his briefcase. As they began to leave Stewart reached out to Blane. "It's really good to see you again." Blane didn't respond in words, just smiled.

They stepped outside, the sky turning orange with the sun starting to set. Blane began to stretch and yawn.

"Cole you said your friend would be here soon. If you wanna go meet with her, I'm gonna turn in for the night."

The Fed didn't dispute it and he and the Sheriff parted ways.

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 **Hope you enjoyed. As you can probably see I'm introducing various different popular characters. I already have an idea of what each character would do in this fictional universe but is there anyone you'd like to see make an apperance? and I'll see what I can do. Don't forget to Review**


	10. Chapter 10

**Another chapter for you I hope you enjoy. I imagine DaisyxBlane fans will like it. Now you've said you'd like Keri, I'll see but as I'm less familiar with the later cast it may take me some time to find the right place for her**

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"Cole you said your friend would be here soon. If you wanna go meet her, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Blane stated. The Fed didn't dispute it and he and the Sheriff parted ways.

Blane was walking, the route back to home was coming up, just turn left. Getting closer and closer. Step by step he moved for. Here it was. Left. In a second. Turn left. Do it. Now. He past it, the left now being a right in backtracking. He wasn't going to turn around. He kept moving. With the falling sun behind him, he cast a mighty shadow, that of a titan, standing strong amongst this hollow town. He was no titan, not anymore. Blane walked on, fleeing the devils upon his shoulders telling him to continue, a devil on each shoulder, he deserved no angel. Moving forward he stared at the ground ahead of him and as if by magic he was still, staring at the bar of the The Knight's Bar.

"Hey Sheriff. What can I get you?" Frank's voice called out, drawing Blane's eyes up to meet his. "The usual?" Blane nodded unable to speak, a peculiar lump forming in his throat. Frank pulled out a Whiskey glass, the nice kind, reserved for the Sheriff and the Mayor. "Want it neat?" Frank gestured to the ice tray, Blane shook his head. As he placed down the glass Frank turned, reaching for the top shelf and retrieving Blane's usual, the Lone Gunman Whiskey, as he placed it by the glass he asked, "Shall I hold on to it or shall you be needing it?" Again Blane did not respond in words but with the look in his eyes. "Just bring it over when you're done." Frank finished, flinging his dish towel over his shoulder and carried on with his duties.

Blane took them and found himself a secluded booth to wallow alone, it wasn't hard. The place wasn't too busy, it was a Sunday night. A few regulars, a few stragglers here on a one off to clear their heads and search for some courage at the bottom of that bottle. The jukebox played, filling the gaps of silence between the idol chatter of the other patrons. The Handsome Family played, The illinois band took an alternative look at country music, a look that soothed Blane. It was their song 'Far From Any Road' that filled the room. Blane sat and allowed the bluegrass melody surround him and the gothic words of death follow into his ears. Peace. He poured his drink and began to consume, slowly allowing it to trickle down his throat, savouring the taste. He poured one after another, allowing himself to drift off.

 _In the hushing dusk, under a swollen silver moon,I came walking with the wind to watch the cactus bloom._

"Blane?" A curious voice softly spoke. Blane returned to find sat opposite was Daisy. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like," He responded, raising his glass in a joking toast, "Anyway, how are you?"

"I'm good thank you." He said cheerfully with a smile, soon that smile morphed, realising he was diverting the conversation. He had ruffled her feather and was getting annoyed at him, staring him down with intent. Blane found her extra cute when he had a playful huff with him, though she was beautiful no matter what the occasion. "How's the case going?"

 _And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood_

"Going well. Got some good leads, We're officially treating it as a murder, but," he stopped himself, "I can't say anymore." He took another gulp of the whiskey, After many years Blane had built a strong tolerance to this poison and so Blane kept himself composed, focusing on not embarrassing himself.

"That's fair." She agreed. "So what's with the uniform?" She gestured to his clothing, his official Sheriff attire, Blane even forget he had it on. They both laughed, enjoying one another's company.

"Yeah," Blane began to explain through his chuckling, "I had to throw it on for the this morning for the meeting with your father, near chewed me head off. We got a Federal Agent down to head the investigation."

"That's cool," Daisy said with intrigue, "What's he like? Is he fitting in well?"

 _In the hushing dusk, under a swollen silver moon I came walking with the wind to watch the cactus bloom_

"Yeah, he's a nice guy, straight laced. Seems to be getting a grip of..." Blane paused, glancing at the glass and finishing what was left in it. "Did your dad send you here?"

"No." She exclaimed but Blane always knew when she was lying, he knew all her idiosyncrasies, when she lied she'd ever so slightly bite her lip and her nose would adorably wiggle. Blane continued to stare. "Well not exactly." She admitted, "I was having dinner with him at the office and he mentioned a guy from the FBI getting involved. Plus, I just wanted to check up on you see how you were doing."

"So you already knew about Cole and decided to act surprised?" Blane felt a feeling of betrayal but that was a familiar emotion.

"It's just that he's worried how it'll affect the town's reputation..." Daisy began but Blane cut her off, raising his hand in a stopping gesture.

"It's been a long day. Can we just move on to something else?" Daisy smiled wide, showing her pearly white teeth. With that Daisy got herself some wine, Blane rolled up his sleeves and pours another glass of the Lone Gunman. Once settled they sat, leaning forward against the table, gazing into each other's eyes just like they use to.

….

 **3 years ago**

Here Blane stood, his hand hovering over the handle of door to his new house, generously given to him by the Mayor. It was getting dark yet he still could not bring himself to enter. Finally he braced himself and opened the door. The place was had an open plain, you could see everything but it wasn't hard. The place was empty. A blank canvas. Just was Blane had been searching for. Blane began to explore the house, getting accustomed to it's walls and its features. The bedroom was already halfway done up. The bed made, with plump new pillows, a selection of new clothes perched atop the dressing table and a note stuck to the mirror, 'For your consideration- D. Millar.' Blane laughed to himself, he really wanted Blane in the Sheriff's office, He'd only been back in St. Hopes for a couple of days yet here he was. He explored the bathroom, flicking on the light to find a strange man there staring at him. Who was he? As they stared with focus and mistrust it was only then that Blane realised it was a mirror. As part of the Mayor's desperate crusade to recruit Blane as a deputy they had taken him to the barber's, their treat, giving him a close shave, the first time Blane's cheeks had seen daylight in a while and his now combed back and managed. Suddenly, bang, a knocking from the other other side of the house, someone was at the door but who? It was late and nobody knew Blane had moved in here, just the Mayor and that McNab guy. The knocking persisted, they were light, non threatening, this could be a rouse to lower his guard, Blane wasn't going to fall for it. He slowly crept towards the door listening carefully for anything on the other side, someone counting down, the cocking of a gun or maybe just heavy breathing but there was nothing, these guys were good. He slowly reached over, grabbing the handle with one hand and tightening a fist with the other, ready to attack. In one swift motion he swung the door open and got into position to fight.

"What took you so long?" the soft voice spoke. With those words spoken all tension from Blane's body left, his fist dissolving. It was Daisy. Daisy Millar. The most popular girl in school. The Hottest girl in school. The Mayor's daughter. The girl that Blane knew was so much more to her than just a pretty face. The Girl he loved and the girl he left standing there in that bus station as has he disappeared into the distance so many years ago. "Blane?" She asked again, only now could he truly see the angel standing in his doorway, "Is now an ok time?" and only did he realise he had been staring at her and hadn't said a word.

"Yeah now's fine." He blurted as his brain kicked in as he invited her in. As Daisy entered she could barren wasteland that was Blane's new home.

"It's very...cosy." She lied. Blane laughed.

"I just got here, there's no need to sugarcoat it." There was a pause of silence. "How did you know where I was?"

"My father told me." She explained sternly. "And seeing how you've been here for 3 days and haven't come to see me yet I thought I'd take initiative." She raised a large bottle of whiskey in her hand, "And I brought a housewarming gift." She handed it over.

"Lone Gunman," Blane read the label with a smile but it quickly dropped. "Did your dad send you here?"

"Well," She began looking away embarrassed, "He just wanted me to see how you were settling in. Plus, I wanted to check in and see how you were doing. I heard about the diner."

"Well," Blane smiled, feeling Daisy worrying eyes burn into him, "I'm fine." He said taking a step back to show Daisy all of him, completely forgetting about the obvious bandaged hand. "And the diner wasn't a big deal."

"You fought four thugs Blane," She said with a look of annoyance at Blane's nonchalant attitude to the situation, that classic look, the look he loved. "And you," Daisy paused, finding it hard to say the words, "you killed those men."

"I've been in the army for six years, what else do think I've been doing." Blane joked. Daisy did not find the joke amusing, her face still scrunched up. Blane tried to rationalise "Look, those guys were armed and probably would have harmed someone. I just did what anybody in my situation would do."

"I guess so," Daisy said, trying to accept his reasoning to shooting, stabbing and beating a gang to death. There was an awkward silence as they stood, making eye contact and both looking away, "I should probably go." She quickly finished.

"Oh, ok," Blane choked on his words. He felt like such an idiot, the first time he had seen Daisy in six years and this was their first encounter, an awkward conversation in his dark and dingy home.

Daisy turned to the door and began to leave as Blane walked her the door to see her off. Just as they reached the door Daisy stood and turned back to Blane. They looked into each other's eyes, not knowing with all their history what was the correct way to say goodbye, a handshake? a high-five? a kiss on the cheek? Daisy decided a hug was appropriate. She leant in and wrapped her arms around Blane. He too was panicking of how to say goodbye, the hug took him by surprise but he soon hugged back. Despite all that he had done, Daisy was happy to see him. Her head rested on his chest for a moment, making her feel safe, like the old days. The hug ended and Daisy began to pull away but they both sudden froze looking at each other, their faces mere inches apart. Blane went for it. He stole a kiss.

Moving in slowly and kissing her gently, as he pulled away she kissed back stronger. The lips were now firmly perched upon one another. Their eyes shut, taking in the moment. Their arms now embraced one another, Blane's hands rested on her waist. Still connected, They began to move away from the door back towards the centre of the house. Blane lifted Daisy, holding her up by the back of her legs as she wrapped them around his waist. All the while not breaking the kiss. This moment was intense, pure passion that Daisy hadn't had in years. Blane carried Daisy across the house to the bedroom.

In the morning Blane was drifting into conscious, waking up but trying not to. Blane kept his eyes shut, trying to refuse the day. In the darkness of his clamped eyelids he began noises. There was the sound of raging fire and the clanging of twisted metal. Then voices shouting.

"It's gonna be ok buddy."

A scream of agony.

"Blane just go."

"Do you dare say that Stew. I getting you out of here." a near sob.

"Just..."

"NO! NO! NO! Stew, stay with me. Stew! Stay awake. Wake up buddy. Wake Up!"

Blane's clamped eyes now opened wide as he gasped, like waking with night terrors. Like waking from a nightmare, guess it was a nightmare of sorts. Blane was now awake and alert. Staring at the bland grey ceiling above he could feel an arm draped over his bare chest. He glanced over to see it was Daisy's. She looked peaceful, fast asleep, her head near resting on his shoulder and her arm trying to hold him close. Her long followed along her head and the bed. He stared at her for a moment, taking in her beauty. She let out a light moan as her eyes slowly opened to meet Blane's.

"Morning." She said in a near whisper and a smile.

"morning." Blane responded. "I'm going to make some coffee, would you like some."

"Please." Again in a hushed tone. Blane slowly made his way out of bed, throwing on some jeans to cover himself. He began to leave the room and that's when Daisy saw the large bandage upon his upper back, concerning her greatly. Blane moved to the kitchen finding a number of little things the Mayor had left him, including a fridge fully stocked with all the essentials, various equipment including a coffee maker. As he began to prepare the beverages Daisy appeared, standing in only Blane's red flannel shirt, it's oversize covering her well. "Why do you have a bandage on her back? I just thought you hurt your hand"

"Yeah, one of the guys had a switchblade, he got me in the back." Blane said casually with his back to her, searching for some coffee mugs. "Honestly it's fine." Daisy was getting annoyed again but it was when he turned around that truly startled her. It was only now that Daisy saw the true damage. Blane's injuries from the diner were nothing. There were scars almost everywhere, cuts and large burns. Daisy's eyes widened.

"Blane, what the hell?" She exclaimed. Blane said nothing. "Where did you get all those scars? and the burns?" silence. "Stewart always said you were never injured during the war."

"There was a lot of time after he left." Blane finally spoke.

"So you got these during the war?"

"I'm not going to have this conversation."

"Stewart said you moved divisions, to an analyst job or something."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Did you get captured? Were you get put in one of those camps?"

"For Christ sake Daisy I'm not talking about this!" Blane shouted, ending the conversation by slamming his fist on the kitchen counter.

….

 **Now**

"And then this 1st grader asked me what a 'pagina' was." Daisy explained as they were both in a fits of laughter. This was nice, Blane hadn't laughed this hard in a while. It was good for him but it was about to turn sour.

"Blane Whittaker and Daisy. Oh My God, it's like High School all over again." A voice cheerfully said. Blane gritted his teeth, tensed up, he knew that voice. He hated that voice. And who the voice came from.

Blane slowly turned to confirm it was him, a walking nightmare. It was Chad Turner.

* * *

 ***Dramatic music* Chad returns. I hope you like it, especially the Blane and Daisy part. Again if there are any characters you want to see, good or bad, mention them when you review. And if you have any questions about the backstory, the setting, my inspirations or writing style feel free to ask. Thank you**


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